


Sand castles

by bluebells



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Don't expect this to make much sense or have a conclusion, If artists can post their warm-ups then so can I, M/M, Posted as complete but open to addition, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24038275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: And as Paz threatens to crush him to the earth with his sheer mass, another vision swims before his eyes.Bare fingers on the naked skin of his neck. The dig of buckles into his hips, denim burning with the grind of clothed weight between his thighs. Dark hair in his eyes, the sweat of another’s forehead against his own, and it’s exhilarating-- the hot, damp rush of their groan into his mouth.Din and Paz catch unsettling glimpses of themselves in other times and places.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Paz Vizla
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	Sand castles

**Author's Note:**

> Because it's 2020 and we do whatever we want.

The ground slams up behind him and the air is thrown from his lungs. He gasps for breath that won’t come. A mighty weight crashes against him with force enough to almost buckle his ribs, and he is pinned. 

Ocean blue swarms his vision as that scratched, scorched visor leans down, blocking out the weak spotlights.

He wheezes, clawing at the large hands closing around his throat. But rather than panic, his heart slows. He stutters on a reedy gasp.

And as Paz threatens to crush him to the earth with his sheer mass, another vision swims before his eyes.

Bare fingers on the naked skin of his neck. The dig of buckles into his hips, denim burning with the grind of clothed weight between his thighs. Dark hair in his eyes, the sweat of another’s forehead against his own, and it’s exhilarating-- the hot, damp rush of their groan into his mouth.

“Din--” And he would know that voice anywhere, but it is thin and strained in a way he has never heard it before. His heart jumps, his stomach drops.

The hand around his throat disappears and Paz releases him as though electrified.

It’s painful when the air rushes back in, too rich, too much at once. Din coughs, fighting not to curl on himself, to cower and suggest he has parts of himself to hide beneath this proud son of Mandalore.

Even kneeling, Paz towers above him, stance wide. His hand flexes and clenches at his side.

“What was that?” Paz growls, his voice deep and measured, each syllable a challenge thrown; a boast of control.

To hear it gasp Din’s name almost sounded alien. Unreal. What a strange near-death impression.

Din drags himself back on his elbows, forcing air between them, and Paz allows it. Even with their visors, there is no mistaking the heat of the man’s glower.

What  _ was  _ that? 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bellsybuilds) or [Tumblr](https://bellsybuilds.tumblr.com).
> 
>  **Permissions:** You do not need to ask for permission to make translations, podfics, fanfic or fanart for any of my stories-- I do ask that you link back to my original work and let me know because I would LOVE to share what you've created.


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